Madame Chrysantheme eBook

XXIV.

August 4th.

The Triomphante, which has been lying in the
roadsteads almost at the foot of the hill on which
stands my house, enters the dock to-day to undergo
repairs rendered necessary by the long blockade of
Formosa.

I am now a long way from my home, and obliged to cross
by boat the whole breadth of the bay when I wish to
see Chrysantheme; for the dock is situated on the
shore opposite to Diou-djen-dji. It is sunk in
a little valley, narrow and deep, midst all kinds
of foliage,—­bamboos, camellias, trees of
all sorts; our masts and spars, seen from the deck,
look as if they were tangled among the branches.

The situation of the vessel—­no longer afloat—­gives
the crew a greater facility for clandestine escapes
from the ship at no matter what hour of the night,
and our sailors have made friends with all the girls
of the villages perched on the mountains above us.

These quarters and his excessive liberty, give me
some uneasiness about my poor Yves; for this country
of frivolous pleasure has a little turned his head.
Moreover, I am more and more convinced that he is
in love with Chrysantheme.

It is really a pity that the sentiment has not occurred
to me instead, since it is I who have gone the length
of marrying her.

XXV.

Notwithstanding the increased distance, I continue
my daily visits to Diou-djen-dji. When night
has fallen, and the four couples who compose our society
have joined us, as well as Yves and the amazingly
tall friend,—­we descend again into
the town, stumbling by lantern light down the steep
stairways and slopes of the old suburb.

This nocturnal stroll is always the same, and accompanied
always by the same amusements: we pause before
the same queer stalls, we drink the same sugared drinks
served to us in the same little gardens. But
our troop is often more numerous: to begin with,
we chaperon Oyouki who is confided to our care by
her parents; then we have two cousins of my wife’s—­pretty
little creatures; and lastly friends—­guests
of sometimes only ten or twelve years old, little
girls of the neighborhood to whom our mousmes wish
to show some politeness.

Oh! what a singular company of tiny beings forms our
suite and follows us into the tea-gardens in the evenings!
The most absurd faces, with sprigs of flowers stuck
in the oddest fashion in their comical and childish
heads! One might suppose it was a whole school
of mousmes out for an evening’s frolic under
our care.

Yves returns with us, when time comes to remount our
hill,—­Chrysantheme heaves great sighs like
a tired child, and stops on every step, leaning on
our arms.

When we have reached our destination he says good-night,
just touches Chrysantheme’s hand, and descending
once more, by the slope which leads to the quays and
the shipping, he crosses the roadstead in a sampan,
to get on board the Triomphante.